If the ten artists in this focussed yet eclectic show had a book club, they’d be reading Rebecca Traister’s best-seller “Good and Mad: The Revolutionary Power of Women’s Anger.” The works, selected by the gallerist Helena Anrather, wisely privilege the allusive over the literal. The exception is a pencilled wall text by Hayley Martell, which lacks the poetic concision of her found-object assemblage “Fighter,” in which brute force (a brick) is no match for resilient fragility (clay, glass, cotton cord). Kristin Walsh’s ingeniously dystopic clock—it runs counterclockwise—ticks off the seconds and minutes with lifelike prosthetic teeth in lieu of hands. The gifted and ever-weird mid-career sculptor Michelle Segre encases a sliced loaf of bread, blooming with mold, in a glass aquarium lined with blood-red pebbles—it’s a reliquary of festering rage, and a feminist twist on Paul Thek. (For another perspective on similar furies, visit “My Silences Had Not Protected Me,” at Fort Gansevoort, curated by Lucy Beni and Emma Nuzzo.)